Totally Real: Crimson Rivers
by Tengou
Summary: The spies have to stop a cult of fascist eugeneticists from completing a humanity defiling and horrid plot


**Crimson Rivers**

**Prologue**

Note: The political statements uttered by the characters in this fictional story are in no way my own and any remote resemblance to existing personae is completely coincidental.

**Crimson Rivers** is the 'sequel' to my other story, (Year of Hell), which I didn't finish as of yet. One of the reasons therefore is the fact that I do not know exactly how to continue. In retrospect, the story was not as interesting as it looked. This however is a new attempt to spice up my inspiration. As in Year of Hell, the origins I coupled to Sam, Alex and Clover are unchanged.

_Trappestine eyes, with golden hair over a milky white skin, Arian perfection is of the universal kind. Clean and cleared of sin, our mission should be perfection, in every facet of our existence, for an Arian that doesn't strive for perfection signs himself as lacking. In the crimson rivers that sustain us, flows the essence that binds us to our purity and guides us. Our essence commands us to defend it with celestial fury against any and all corruption._

_-- ArchCleric Mündel_

**2005, April 3; Hong-Kong, 16.32 hours.**

It was high noon in the crowded city of Hong-Kong. The roads were the victim of a massive gridlock as those who had a job that ended early were all on their way home. A city of millions. Millions of people with millions of wishes and millions of different opinions on the word 'haste'. Numerous claxons, close by and far away, seemed to blanket the ambient sound of footsteps and voices. The voices that were there, were mostly those who sold trinkets at the side of the street, men and women in front of grills that were sitting under wave plate roof panes, their cookeries filling the downtown area with a mild, but contending fragrance. It was enough to drive someone with an empty stomach towards one of them, which was the entire reason for it to exist. It was a wellfaring region, even before, both before and after it was returned to China in 1997. Numerous of skyline buildings, gambling paradises (especially horse tracks and casino) and a number of banks, jewelers, boutiques and rich men's clubs compelling of a certain awe. Truthfully, almost no one remembers what Hong Kong used to be like in the time of the great world wars. But, who's to blame? Wealth in body as well as mind is still not universal, but the days of today, there was a certain ability of choice coming with life itself. No more prearranged marriages, equal rights, the works.

"Taxi!"

A sudden screech came from the street as a black car with the clear white letters 'TAXI' on its roof light, together with the Chinese version of the word. It stopped right in front where a well clad man was standing and a short, wiry Chinese man, kind of like the 60's stereotype label the American cinema was so eager to dish out to their oriental brothers and sisters, turned about and reared his head out of the side window as it was coming down by electricity. A snarling grin was visible upon the strained face, his eyes turning to look upon the man to the side of his cab. He was static, about 6 feet in length and a good proportion of body. Broad shoulders and a good posture wrapped in a suit no doubt of one of the better Italian brands. On top of this suit was a Tweed jacket, because though the seasons were coming well along, it still wasn't bliss to walk around without some warming clothes. The man's face was quite symmetric and although his age certainly exceeded the 50 year mark, he could be considered as a handsome man. Short grey hair came out of the ceiling of his head and a beard was there as well, giving him both an intellectual tension as well as a more tough air. He nodded towards the Chinese man, whose mouth started to suddenly widen and show teeth that were quite yellow.

"_Wha' can I do fow you, sir?"_ the Chinese man asked with a clear accent as the man heard it, moving alongside the front of the car, opening the door to the rear quarters and stepping in. The suitcase the static man was carrying remained in his hand all the time; it was placed on his lap as soon as he felt he sat comfortably. He would look back up towards the taxi driver who, in his awaiting of the grey haired man's answer, raised his eyebrow slightly and looked through the rear view mirror.

"Airport, please." The man's answer was short and his voice was powerful. The taxi driver nodded and switched his car into first, then moving his foot down upon the gas. The car, which was a _Shenlong Fukang_ (a Chinese derivative of the European Citroen ZX), started to move, calmly accelerating along the line a four door saloon should. Moving to overtake a small van, it inched towards a road further to the right. It wasn't long before the entire car was swallowed in the massive gridlock that is high noon Hong-Kong.

"_Sorry, sir, but i' could take a while. Mid-day Hong Kong is troublesome to drive through."_

"It will not be much of a problem," the Westerner answered with a monotonous voice as he fiddled around over the surface of his suitcase. Short moments of doubt pulsed through his mind as he remembered that the suitcase was a lot emptier as it was ten minutes ago. He sighed and rubbed the side of his head a little bit, then turned back to the front, watching the mannerisms of the Chinaman as he navigated through the traffic. You could easily see that he had been doing this work for a long time; he knew his vehicle pretty well, he wasn't afraid to take any chance he could, like swaying into a side street when the opportunity presented itself and the man in the back was not unsatisfied by the mettle of the short chinaman. Maybe that's what partially invoked his guilt. Reminding himself of the beliefs he had been raised with, he banished the doubts to the back of his mind and looked back ahead.

"_So, what bwought you to Hong Kong?" _the seemingly friendly Chinese taxi driver started. The man in the seat behind looked up slightly, snapping out of his short trance as he fiddled his beard while searching for a good answer.

"I had some work to do. Business. I mixed it with a mellow bit of pleasure, too." The man slightly smiled and puts up his sunglasses, as he had a slight headache. The last few weeks of his life were very hectic and drew him to depletion.

"_Pweasure is always good," _the cab driver grinned and looked at the dash. While nimbly and skillfully skidding between a gap left by two cars to his right, he slightly cheated by moving 30 or so feet over an empty piece of sidewalk to come back out after having cut off an entire cross section, he grabbed into his dash nonchalantly and grabbed out a guide, pulling it up over his shoulder to pass it on to the man in the back. He raised his eyebrow and reached out his white-gloved hand to grab it.

"_Fo' if you ever decide to return, sir…"_ he grinned.

"What do you mean? I…" the man said while opening up the guide, coming up to a page featuring several strip clubs. In the front was the photo of an oriental girl in the role of an all too Western stripper. He slightly blinked and turned to let the pages zip by slightly. A mild distaste coupled to a lack of interest was suddenly interrupted by the explanatory voice of the taxi driver.

"_Banks, Hotels, Restaurants, Museums, Parks, Entertainment Centers, Pools, Clubs, Boutiques, Shopping centers, Theaters, you name it, it's there."_

The man turned to open the book at the start, seeing, by the table of contents, it wasn't a plain dirty book, and he nodded.

"Thank you."

"_Ah, don' mention it. You seem to have had a busy day, sir. My name is Chin Lo, but call me Chin."_

The man looked up again and nodded to him. "Mine is Johan. Nice to meet you, Chin," he said, this familiarizing brought him a strange sense of comfort. Not one large enough to ease the lingering guilt of his deeds, but one to mellow them nonetheless. He moved his suitcase in his leg space, to put it out of his mind for a while.

"And you're right. I had a very busy day… I'm spent."

"_Aaa… Well I wish I had some herbs with me. They work wonders man."_

"I bet they do," he leant back and looked at the buildings shooting by. His eye now and then narrows to fall upon a particularly eye-catching construction, but he was used to quite a bit and that did not happen often. His eyes traveled to look upon his wristwatch which, for some reason, was performing a countdown. He looked upon the driver with a questioning gaze and looked once more upon the watch before turning his hand down and leaning it beside him.

_22.17 … 22.16 … 22.15_

The hundredths of a second just went too fast to see, of course, and he never figured too much why they were so important. He was not really caught up in a race, or was he.

"Say, Chin." he asked with a slight glare. "How long until we reach the Airport, if I may ask?"

"_I guess in about 25 minutes. It will probably only get more crowded on the road. Could be more, could be less."_

The man wasn't really worried and he simply remained leaning back against the seat. The car itself wasn't exactly the pinnacle of luxury and the leather upholstery was slightly roughed up. It didn't feel all too pleasant to the man's back. While looking outside towards the stream of people walking the sidewalks and cars on the road, he suddenly felt the awkward need to empty his bladder. Not that he was going to. He was a grown man and he could hold it. It is troublesome though, at his age. He more quickly felt the need to relieve himself and sometimes, he had an annoying cringe down there. He always lived quite healthy and aside from the occasional encounter with fast food, he never ate fat and generally exercised well, but age will catch up with you nonetheless. Still, he is about ten years older than one would make him out to be. He was 63.

"Good. That sounds like a pretty good achievement, being able to maneuver through such a gridlock that fast."

"_I've been driving cabs for 28 years now. I know this city inside and out. I know when to take the right lane, when to take the left lane, when to use the sidewalk…" _he let out a slight grin and as the grey haired man took the brochure and started to page through it once more, he nodded.

"I've noticed. About the sidewalk part, at least." His voice was not without a slight addition of wit. Just when he turned to look upon an interesting article about a massage salon, he was addressed once again.

"_So, Johan," _the Chinese man added with a grin, _"What kind of work do you do if I may ask? You seem like an avid businessman or something."_

He sighed almost inaudibly and gathered himself shortly, to look back upon the driver.

"A businessman…" he muttered and looked out of the semi-blinded windows again, mildly wondering why they were darkened like that. He knew the answer, but still the question arose. To ward off criminals… There's a much slimmer chance they'd do something when they didn't know what was inside, after all.

"You could say that I am a businessman, yes," he added and folded his arms, looking down into the brochure again, paging through the strip club section quickly to get to what followed. Only then did he realize that more than a quarter of the brochure's content was comprised of strip clubs and similar 'recreational facilities'. He puffed.

"I didn't realize there was so much adult entertainment in this city."

The taxi driver laughed heartily and grinned, looking back at him.

"_Western influence, my friend. The United Kingdom has had a lot of influence on Hong Kongs development. And look at what they brought…"_

The man kept laughing for another while, while the older man behind was looking back out of the window. He was noticing that as the moments passed, less and less tall buildings came by, as the downtown looks changed into a clumsy arrangement of buildings with ten stores at max. The more picturesque neighborhoods with more oriental influence came up. Lanterns filled the place the disappeared sodium based streetlights left, the pungent odor of freshly grilled fish hit the man's nose even through the closed window and the number of cars decreased phenomenally. So, the Shenlong could pick up some speed and put a big dent in the time it appeared to take to get close to the airport. The latest worries also sunk back to the rear end of his brain and he looked back forward over the leaning of the taxi driver's seat. The conversation had once more came to a florid summit as the airport was already visible. There was a beautiful view of a 727 coming down towards one of the landing strokes. Its roaring engine already overcame the sound of passing cars and the buildings they drove past became ugly again. Large and ugly, boxy structures that seem to fit in an industrial area.

"… but I have to say that Here in Hong Kong, I was forced to do some really bad things," the man said as he seemed to engage in a pseudo talk about his 'line of work'.

"… things I rather don't talk about."

"_Company life can be painful I understand," _the cab driver muttered as he changed back into third as he moved into the road that lead to the main entrance to the airport complex

"Well, it is not really a matter of company ethics, I'm afraid," he smiled slightly, trying to hide away the gnawing feeling that seemed to take an annoying hold of him. "It is an ethical matter though, I'm afraid…"

Ethics was the last thing he was upholding at this point, and as he said that, he felt bad about it. Rubbing the side of his head to work back an annoying ache that suspended in the deep of his mind, he turned back towards his watch. He widened his eyes slightly and saw the counter stop.

_00.03 … 00.02 … 00.01 … 00.00_

Suddenly, his face wasencrusted by a strange halo of light. A short, bright flash that was visible right through the darkened rear window. As the sight of his face came back, it seemed devoid of life. Within several seconds, odd tremors pulled through the ground, though right now reduced to a mere 'bump'. A slightly horrid, deformed sound that almost resembled a short belch with a loud thump afterwards was followed by another, slightly louder groaning sound. The sound of the explosion in Downtown Hong Kong traveled through the ground and had already caught up with them, but then, a strange silence, Chin looked back over his shoulder and saw the strange flash dim down.

"_What the hell was tha'?"_

Feigning a sense of surprise, Johan Meissen looked back over his shoulder as well, but the explosion had already died down for the most part, several firy pieces of debris were still tumbling through the air far away. His gaze seemed to show a man partially dying, and he then looked back

"I have no idea…"

About half a minute later, swift winds carried the sound that had traveled through the air. A muffled, but obvious explosion could be noticed. A tiny pressure wave seemed to give the car a diminutive boost. Chin Lo widened his eyes and looked back once more, all the while entering the main road, which brought them to a large parking.

"_Holy hell. Terrorists?"_

"Most probably…" he muttered lowly and stepped out, gathering himself, straightening out his suit with a few trembles of his lip. His short beard seemed to tug at his chin in the winds that played. Readjusting his tidy suit, he nodded towards Chin, moving into his wallet and giving him a 100 dollar bill. "Keep the change, Chin…"

"_Thanks, sir. It was a pleasure driving you…" _he said, though worry about what happened downtown in his city was working up. His smile faded and he quickly moved back into his car. Moving his hand on the contact key, he was about to start the engine as suddenly, the weathered wiry hand of Johan Meissen slapped down on the door sill. "Chin."

Chin Lo looked up and nodded, narrowing one of his eyes in wonder.

"Stay indoors and don't let anyone enter. Tell your family to do the same…" He said with a quivering lip, then walked away, yelling two last words.

"Trust me!"

He ran towards the entrance, mingling into a large crowd of which many were looking towards the source of the sound. Quickly out of sight, he entered and went to check in. Chin Lo looked out in front of himself with an almost entranced glare, surprised and wondering. Strange, very strange. The old man left an impression he would not easily forget. Quickly and without further hesitation, Chin slammed his foot down on the gas, made his way out of the parking and back into the city. The last impression left was a slight trail of smoke, lingering up from the ground where the tires squealed.

Later that evening, a Boeing 777 left the eighth airstrip of Hong Kong International Airport on the way to London, one of the 287 passengers on board being Meissen, J.F., a man with a headache, a glass of whisky in front of him and a bottomless pit of guilt to stare into. It wasn't quick, but he did fall asleep eventually to be plagued by morbid dreams. The last words coming from his mouth before drifting off being

"What have I done…"


End file.
